Prisioneiro do Remorso

Inspired by the plight of Catholic Cardinal Josef Mindszenty behind the Iron Curtain – already the subject of a worthwhile low-budget Hollywood film, GUILTY OF TREASON (1950; see above) – this prestigious British production (based on a Bridget Boland play, who adapts her own work for the screen) boasts two powerhouse performances by Alec Guinness (as the proud Prince of the Church) and Jack Hawkins (as the wily Interrogator). Their interaction is a beauty to behold and one cannot help but be reminded how these formidable actors had already worked together in, curiously enough, MALTA STORY (1953) and, of course, would go on to do so again under David Lean's Oscar-winning direction in THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI (1957) and LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (1962). Although much of the running time is devoted to their rigorous one-on-one sessions (enough for it to be deemed a two-hander), the film allows (at least) another fine actor to shine: Wilfred Lawson as Guinness' jailer who grows to respect his prisoner with time. The small cast also includes Kenneth Griffith as Hawkins' eager-to-learn subordinate – incidentally, the latter also appeared in two episodes of Patrick McGoohan's later cult TV series of the same name but which bore no relation to this movie! – and Raymond Huntley as Hawkins' impatient superior. Conversely, the romantic subplot between doubting Communist Ronald Lewis and his Catholic girlfriend Jeanette Sterke seems forced and intrusive – almost like an afterthought (whereas it had been far more effectively handled in the aforementioned Hollywood treatment). But, as I said before, the film's trump card is its gradual depiction of the evolving relationship between the two leads, which really has no equivalent in GUILTY OF TREASON (where Charles Bickford's tormentors were various and generally shrouded in darkness). Although the main characters and the setting remain unnamed throughout (lending it a pretentious air of political allegory also missing from the earlier film), the controversial subject of THE PRISONER got it banned from participating in both the Cannes and Venice Film Festivals – although it did get nominated for 5 BAFTAs and, eventually, won a couple of other international awards.

because it is a great artistic duel between Alec Guiness and Jack Hawkins, remembering, in few scenes, "Beckett". because the performance of Wilfrid Lawson is really seductive. because it use as symbol, maybe, the example of Jozsef Mindszenty, Archibishop of Esztergom, but, in same measure , it is an inspired story about the conflict between the State and the Church under Communism. it represents one of of films with a precise target. almost a refuge. because it is slow, uncomfortable, simple and far to give answers. one of films who must see it. because it is a large window to the essential things defining each of us.

Though the wonderful Wilfred Lawson gives a good turn as a jailer, this is basically a two-man show, based on a play. The two men are fine actors: Alec Guinness, as the beloved Cardinal arrested by the state in a generic Eastern European Cold War setting; and Jack Hawkins, as the state inquisitor, trying to coerce the Cardinal into making untrue confessions for a show trial.

Both men are brilliant, though Guinness is perhaps too impenetrable, not only for his inquisitors, but for the audience. Hawkins' character and Guinness's worked together in the Resistance against the Nazis; since then, Hawkins has become a high Communist official trying to eradicate the church from public life.

At first, the movie seems like a cat-and-mouse game between two fanatics, though erudite and educated fanatics, one believing in the church and the other in the ultimate power of the state. Hawkins keeps his well-practiced geniality, though, while Guinness, under mental torture (Hawkins knew Guinness had suffered physical torture under the Nazis and was inured to it) begins to show cracks.

While the movie is hardly a cliff-hanger, and doesn't discuss religion or even totalitarianism in any great depth, the performances by the leads are intense, and worth watching for the acting alone, even though one may be puzzled by what it's all about.

In an unnamed country behind the Iron Curtain, the government orders the arrest of the Cardinal (Alec Guinness) on charges of treason. The government wants the Cardinal to confess to his crimes so that the international community will hear it, so they set the Interrogator (Jack Hawkins) to work. He orders a battery of psychological tortures be used against the Cardinal, interrupted by regular, brow-beating interrogation sessions. The Cardinal's resolve is very strong, but the Interrogator may be stronger.

Based on a play by Bridget Boland (who also scripted this film version), the stage origins of the material are apparent. Director Glenville does what he can to open things up with some scenes set out in the oppressed streets, and using off-beat camera set-ups and editing to enliven the lengthy one-on-one dialogue sessions between Guinness and Hawkins. The story line is of its time (it was based on a couple of real incidents), but the subjects of mental and spiritual endurance in the face of extreme stress are universal. The performances by Guinness and Hawkins are excellent, and I also liked Wilfrid Lawson as the agreeable Jailer.

A classic sadly almost ignored and forgotten probably because of it's small scale being a quite simple screen version of the popular stage play. Alec Guinness is the Cardinal arrested by the state during the Cold War, Jack Hawkins is the state inquisitor trying to break him. Ex comrades in arms, fighting in the Resistance against the Nazis; they now find themselves on opposing sides of Church and State. An intense battle of wills ensues, superb performances all round including Wilfred Lawson as the jailer. Highly recommended.